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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801723">Bees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi'>GalekhXigisi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Unholy Holy Trinity Collection [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King, The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt, The Turn of the Screw - Henry James, The Turning (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Boris Pavlikovsky &amp; Richie Tozier &amp; Mike Wheeler Are Triplets, Boris Pavlikovsky &amp; Richie Tozier Are Twins, Discussion of Pregnancy, Eddie Kaspbrak Has ADHD, Hard of Hearing Richie Tozier, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mike Hanlon Deserves Love, Mike probably wont be in this but whatever, Mute Richie Tozier, Partially Deaf Richie Tozier, Pedophilia, Period-Typical Racism, Permanent Injury, Racism, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Soon yall, Trans Boris Pavlikovsky, Trans Richie Tozier, Trans Theodore Decker, Transphobia, Vomiting, and he will get it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:28:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the lucky seven defeat Pennywise, they don't realize Richie's faced a grave injury until it's too late. After he's finally stable, his stepmom insists he go live with his brother and sister. How will the group cope with the changes that inevitably hurt all of them? </p><p>Aka Richie loses his voice and things aren't too great, even with Georgie back and alive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Unholy Holy Trinity Collection [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ahaha, bet you didn't expect this in 2020, the worst year so far. It's been over a year since Chapter 2 came out! And I've been wanting to revive this idea since!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Within the midst of their fight with Pennywise, the assortment of seven had run from the depths of the sewers, helping a disoriented Beverly and supporting each other as the adrenaline from killing the clown wore off. The light was bright, painfully so on multiple sets of eyes. They were panting and wheezing with the painful rush they had taken to leave as quickly as they physically could, not a single one wanting to stay within the collapsing prison. They all stank with greywater and had their own assortment of injuries that would need to be cleaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beverly stumbles through first, Ben and Bill both supporting her as they go. She’s weaving slightly to the sides, slumping forward and looking a bit pale. She has to stop to lean to the side to vomit, just barely avoiding Bill’s legs. She forcefully pushes him back just in time, though. It’s a distraction that pulls the two boy away from Mike and Eddie, neither of which look particularly winded. Mike was used to riding his bike around town and Eddie loved to race the group whenever his mother couldn’t see, it wasn’t at all an issue for either them. Stan trails after them, looking rather winded himself, his face flushed red and body sweaty as he pants, leaning forward with his hands pressed to his knees, rather out of his usual form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just let it out,” ben softly comforts, patting Beverly’s back as she heaves out the last bit of vomit, choking on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mike frowns, a hand pressing to his mouth. He was never one for vomit, not really, so he turns away, instead focusing on the others in the group. He slightly smiles at seeing Eddie doing his best to help Stan, but frowns as he realizes they’re missing a member of their group. He asks, “Where’s Richie,” in a quick tone, anxiety filling him instantly.. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He almost wishes he didn’t get an answer if it meant he wouldn’t have to see the boy who was nothing more than a dead man walking. He held a hand against his throat, smiling widely, though he was sickly pale. He adjusts his glasses with his free hand and opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And suddenly, the defeat of pennywise becomes bittersweet because Richie moves his hand and blood spills thickly. He stares at his own hand, smile gone as his friends let out their assortment of screams and Stan and Eddie both hold hands to their mouths in hopes of not vomiting everywhere. Richie only looks somewhat phased, a smile coming to his lips once more before his eyes roll into the back of his head and he’s falling to the side. Mike has to stride forward within a few steps to catch him in time, certain that the boy busting his head on slip rocks won’t aid any of them whatsoever. He hates the red that dribbles along his skin the instant he makes contact with the other’s skin. The scent of iron is suddenly so much fresher than the disgusting scent of sewer water that had long since filled their noses. The deep wound exposes the world to places Mike knows no one should ever see. He screams his friend’s name, turning towards the others with a new fear in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mike was scared of a lot of things. He was scared of fires, of what his parents would think of him, of drugs that he remembers them being so in tune with. He was scared of a lot of things, but there was a fear so deeply rooted inside of him at the prospect of seeing the boy he’s grown so close to within the span of a few months die that he can’t even compare it to what he’s overcome through the years. Richie was their impulsive friend that knew enough about first aid to know to set Eddie’s arm and to help bandage Stan’s face. Mike vaguely thinks it has to do with Richie’s dad, something about the man being a doctor, but no one’s ever fact-checked it, so Mike isn’t sure. He was the one who would impulsively help them when they were hurt, not the other way around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it’s apparent now as the six panic over their suddenly passed out friend who’s breathing is shallow and blood is thick. Eddie, despite his clear disliking for blood, exclaims, “We need to get him to the hospital!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The closest hospital is almost an hour away in the city,” Beverly replies with her arms waving in front of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then w - we have to hu - hu - urry,” Bill supplies with a frown. He’s not the best leader, but he’s taking charge now, not willing to lose the oldest friend he’s ever had. He helps lift the raven-haired boy’s feet, directing Ben, “Ben, help lift,” in a quick snap. While his expression is full of determination, the fear never wavers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to stop the bleeding,” Stan yelps as he moves forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All of our clothes are dirty, Stan,” Eddie replies to the blonde, “He’ll get a staph infection!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Or</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’ll bleed out,” Stan yells in reply, unbuttoning his shirt with haste. Eddie pales at that thought, moving to rip at Stan’s buttons. For once, the curly-haired boy doesn’t care about them, instead moving to take off his shirt and wrap it around the wound, so careful with his movements but being as quick as he can despite the way his hands shake and breathing escalates with panic. Eddie does his best to help, but he pulls aaway the second he realizes his fumbling is only making things worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to take him to my house,” Stan says before anyone can fight him on it, “And my dad can tell them what’s going on after we get him to the hospital.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Them,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Beverly asks, wiping the back of her hand on her mouth, getting rid of the excess spit that had collected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan clarifies as he finishes tying his shirt, “His </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The others merely nod. The instant Stan is done, they move, walking as quickly as they can afford without jostling Richie too much. They know where Stan’s house it, about his parents and how they’ve practically adopted Richie. Mike has no idea what Richie had been doing since their group had unofficially broken up, but he hopes that Richie was at least safe during it all, or safe enough from his family. Mike quickly realizes he doesn’t kknow anything about them, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stan,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Mike says in almost a whisper as they walk. The blonde boy hums, turning his head up from where he had been staring at the blood on his hands, focused on the other. “What’re Richie’s parents like?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His dad is great,” Stan says with a neutral expression. It was a slight upgrade from his previously vacated look. “He’s one of the doctors at the hospital, so he isn’t home much and when he is, they do a lot of stuff together.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His mom,” Beverly asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His stepmom is barely ever home,” Stan says, making the girl stiffen, “All Maggie does is yell at Richie. I’ve only met her twice, but both times, she’s thrown things at him, so she’s… </span>
  <em>
    <span>not great.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And his real mom lives in Indian with his one of his brothers. He had three sisters and two other brothers, but they’re all kind of scattered and Richie doesn’t talk about them that much since he misses Boris, Flora, and Miles. He relly hates Mike, though.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He has a brother named Mike,” Mike asks with a slight smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He looks just like Richie, too. It’s hilarious how much they’re not like each other. I met Mike once and he’s kind of a brat but he’s… Okay. His friends are nice.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, how’d you meet them,” Eddie asks with a brow raising, confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When we were a lot younger and Maggie was marrying Wentworth, Richie and his dad had to go see his mom so they could get the divorce all over with and Richie wanted me to come with him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their terrifying walk devolves into Stan filling the silence with stories of he and Richie’s shared childhood, tossing in things about Bill and Eddie along the way. The walk seems to be both too long and too short all at once. Especially the instant they make it to the Uris household. As soon as Stan’s mother walks out, the woman is rushing inside to get her car keys and screaming at her husband to get outside so they can leave as soon as possible. Mike’s certain that this isn’t the first injury Richie has faced where he needs the Uris’ to take him to the hospital, but he’s certain it’s the worst. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They can’t come with him. The car isn’t big enough to hold then all, especially not with Richie laying in the back. Stan sits in the back to monitor Richie’s breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere only gets tenser as the car rolls off. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for tall of Richie being suicidal and implications that Stan is also suicidal, as well as pedophilia, sexualizing minors, and transphobia. These last three themes are only going to get worse through the fic so please be careful. However, I'm bringing in Miles, Flora, Boris, and Theo soon so be on the lookout for the Fairchildren and the gays UwU</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beverly huffs softly as she sits in the hammock. Within three days alone, all of their lives have drastically changed. It isn’t hard to see, not really. After Henry Bowers’ arrest, everyone’s lives have managed to change one way or another. The clown’s death had brought back a select few, some of which included Betty and even Georgie, both of which had no recollection of the summer whatsoever, which Bill was increasingly thankful for, given the state of everything. His brother was with him once more, in one piece (a happy surprise for Bill), and more than just happy to be back with Bill and their family especially with their mother divorcing their father at how horrible he had been treating Bill during Georgie’s disappearance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie was in trouble more often than not, now. His mother had become increasingly more protective over him, grounding him. However, Eddie couldn’t give less of a shit about her rules, actively sneaking out. He wasn’t taking his medicine, had discarded his inhaler entirely, was doing every single thing within his power to spite her. It enraged the woman that Eddie would sneak out at any and all points he had the opportunity to, meeting up with his friends at the end of Stan and Richie’s street. Neither house had had anyone in them since the Uris adults had taken the two teenagers to the hospital, though, so they monitored for updates in shifts during the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mike’s grandfather was giving him far more leeway now, though, with the conditions that he delivered more packages whenever asked. Mike always did his chores on time for the sake of being able to go and see his friends, something all of them were incredibly happy about. He no longer had to hurt any form of cattle, either, which had managed to put him at such ease that he almost cried at being told that he didn’t have to do so anymore. He spent as much time with the grup or guarding the two houses as he could possibly get away with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not much changed with Ben, though. The boy’s uncle and his secret boyfriend (the two posed as best friends raising Ben after his parents both passed) were both already pretty lenient and supportive when it came to Ben. Hell, the two had moved to Derry after the boy had said that he hated where they lived and wanted to find somewhere else, to live somewhere a bit more scenic than where they had been. They relocated and his uncles never once stopped supporting him, doing their best to help however they could, given their circumstances. It was a large comfort that they never attempted to cease. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Beverly had gotten a handful of help after her father’s “untimely demise.” His murder was blamed on a series of accidents that ended with him slamming his head into the toilet, bleeding out in the bathroom. Beverly had claimed that she hadn’t been home when it happened and her aunt had come to Maine so she could take care of the girl. She was setting up arrangments to move the girl out of the horrid apartment, whispering to Beverly that she was aware what happened was nothing near being an accident but she would have killed him herself if she had the chance. It was a shared secret between the losers and they had met the vibrant woman who reminded them of Richie far more than they wanted to admit. It was a bit jarring if they were being honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little group of five sits on the edge of the woods in the little safe haven they’ve formed. It’s at the end of Stan and Richie’s street, the two sitting directly on the dead-end, Richie at the very end with Stan to his left. It was quiet, mostly vacated with only elderly people at the front The huge homes were far cheaper than expected, more for show than anything. The street was on the edge of town, which meant anyone actually coming there not to visit someone was a surprise. There wasn’t much in their little section of woods, just a hammock and a few seats that Beverly’s aunt had gotten for them after she noticed her niece camping out as she waited for her friends. There was a cooler with drinks and Eddie’s bag filled to the brim with snacks that Beverly and Bill had mostly stolen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a large surprise to see three cars pulling into the street, only one of which they recognized as the Uris family car. The other two pull into the Tozier household, only one of which is a family car and the other being a muscle car. Richie sits in the muscle car with a man who’s smiling, the older of the two relaxed. Richie looks far more relaxed than he should be with the thick bandaged wrapped tightly around his throat. However, his mood immediately dampers as the door of the unrecognized family car opens. A woman with long, curly hair steps out, immediately fussing as she watches the doors open on the car Richie’s in. His relaxed expression immediately morphs into something so neutral that all of the losers flinch at seeing it. They make their way over, all frowning and worried for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they get closer, they can recognize Richie’s father. Or, at the very least, Bill can, The man is tall, tall as can be. He’s glaring at the woman, dark brows creasing. Salt and pepper coils bob as he yells something in reply, the short beard he’s sporting getting wiped with his hand. He’s angry, arms flailing as he screams back at the woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan runs over to join them, standing beside Richie. He supports the other boy, a hand lacing with his. Richie’s still holding that neutral look as he does so. Like this, they can see the other assortment of bandages wrapped around the two. Both of them have their arms bandaged up, a few patches around Richie’s legs a bit thicker than the ones on their arms. Stan’s face was wrapped up but he looked fine as he held tightly to the raven-haired boy. Richie’s hair was in its natural mop of coils, the boy having not straightened it like he normally would. The losers doubt he was able to while in the hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brightens at seeing the group, brown eyes widening. Stan follows his gaze and smiles, the two rushing to make their way forward. However, the woman roughly grabs his arm before he can get far, roughly stopping him as her nails dig into his arm, just above the bandages. Richie’s hand protectively comes up to his throat and Stan moves to coil around the boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew I never should have left her with any of you in this damn town,” she yells angrily, jutting an accusatory finger at the boy glaring at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie stays silent, just looking at her with a blank look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maggie, You’re going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt him,”</span>
  </em>
  <span>  Wentworth yells at the woman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maggie.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Any worse than these </span>
  <em>
    <span>shitheads</span>
  </em>
  <span> have managed to,” she accuses once more, now gesturing at the losers moving forward. Both of Stanley’s parents follow their son over. “THat’s it! I’m sending him to the mansion with Miles, Flora, and Boris! Maybe they can keep her safe, teach her how to be a woman.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a woman,” Stanley’s mother says as she puts a protective hand on her son’s shoulder, as well as Richie’s. “Richie is a boy. He’s not a man just yet, he’s a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a woman because he’s going to be a </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span> someday.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay out of this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Keep your whore son away from Pankratova, he’s a bad influence on her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie rips his arm away from her, suddenly parting from both Maggie and Stan, shaking Stan’s mother off, as well. He ducks his head as he rushes inside the home. Stan calls out his name but doesn’t follow after his, his eyes wide and brimming with tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you fucking call him that, Maggie,” Wentworth yells at Maggie, flailing an arm in the direction of his home, clearly yelling about his son. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s on suicide watch! He might fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill himself!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good! Maybe then he’ll get away from you and these shitty people!” She stamps inside the home with Wentworth following on her heels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they reach the three Urises, Stanley’s burst into tears, choking on a sob. He desperately turns towards his parents, crying out, “They’re sending him away! He’s never gonna come back!” It’s a stark shift from his typical composure, a mess as he sobs, gesturing at the Tozier household. “They’re going to call him the wrong name there and then he’ll - he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stanley,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mother suddenly snaps, bending down enough to meet him eye to eye. She smiles sympathetically, telling him, “It’s going to be okay! You know how those kids are! They’re going to help Richie. They’ve got that nice tutor and the horse trainor and their maid. And then his brothers and sister! THey’ll keep him alive, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promise.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if they </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he yells. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s terrifying, honestly, to see Stanley so distraught. It makes tears greet Mike’s eyes. The prospect of Stanley being so hurt already makes him upset, but losing Richie, too? It makes his throat tighten and he finds himself coming forward to hug Stan tightly. The blonde boy buries his face in Mike’s shoulder, letting the sobs roll thickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes thirty minutes to calm him down enough for him to talk to the group of five. He’s a mess, even after his father hands him a cup of tea and his mother sits beside the boy, running her hands through his hair as he wades through the last few painful cries. She doesn’t move after he’s done and provides comfort for the others once they realize the gist of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s making Richie go move in with his brothers and sister,” Stan says. “And they’ve got that stupid creepy horse trainer that called Richie his little who-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stanley,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> his mother softly snaps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He called him his whore, Mom,” he fusses, his hands slightly flapping with his growing anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, baby,” she says sympathetically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if he’s bad, they’ll probably send them to that stupid boarding school they sent Miles to!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know how Richie is with adults and new places, though, dear.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s he like,” Ben asks, clearly confused. They’d never seen Richie with any adults outside of now, school, and Eddie’s mom. None of those had been the best, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother stiffens for a moment, lips drown tight as she purses them. “He’s not… He isn’t good with adults, dear. The only reason he’s so good with us and his father is because we’re practically his parents and Wentworth is such an amazing father.” She sighs inwardly. “When he first moved here, he cried when anyone even looked at him wrong and he couldn’t stand when voices were raised at him. His mother was so mean and I hadn’t known Maggie was so mean with him until she got t the hospital the other day…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He isn’t good with adults because they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean to him,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stanley huffs as he sips on his tea. “No one’s nice with Richie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, Sweet Pea,” his mother whispers once more, frowning. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Buzzing beneath your skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Richie sees his siblings again after so long.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There are strong implications of past rape/non-con or things of that sort. It's explained better in the end notes, which PLEASE read them, as they are important for the story and clarifications. Please be safe and don't read if this triggers you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If Richie Tozier ere to be described by anyone whatsoever, the ord </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span> would never once come to mind. However, the boy sits in complete silence as he watches the forests roll. He hasn’t been back to the mansion since his grandparents on his dad’s side had passed, the two elders taken out in a car crash that Richie had been in, accompanied with Flora. The girl had made it out just fine and they had minimal scarring, though Richie couldn’t hear out of his left ear and his right was subpar, at best. He learned to live with it, adapted to his hearing. It was why he was so loud more often than not, wanting to hear his own voice instead of just the vibrations his brain and body would pick up. People would call him annoying for the behavior, would call him out, would publicly humiliate him. He’s lived with it for years and he can’t really remember a time where his hearing was actually good. It’s irritating, sure, but he lives with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Won’t it be nice to see Miles, Flora, and Boris again, Richie,” Wentworth says with a smile, eyes flickering at Richie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy frowns slightly, brows creasing somewhat. He hadn’t seen his siblings in years, not even Boris, his twin. The two used to be inseparable, duplicates in every form of the word. They made trouble and pissed anyone who gave them so much as a second glance. They were raised by Wentworth, the twins favoring their father while Flora and Miles preferred their grandparents. As far as Richi8e’s aware, neither of the two have left the mansion since their grandparents’ funeral. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wentworth sighs softly, his brows slightly furrowing as he focuses on the beaten path that was pitifully dubbed a road. “Listen, Rich… I know you haven’t seen them in years and that you’d probably want to see them under better circumstances… But I don’t want you there while I divorce Maggie. I know how the divorce with Karen was and I don’t want you to go through anything like that again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie nods slowly. His hand subconsciously comes up to softly touch the bandages over his arm, hovering over the deep cuts Maggie’s nails had caused, taking out chunks of flesh. He hadn’t said goodbye to anyone, just packing his things and the two took off in the night. Richie didn’t want to have to face the Losers, nor did he want to face Maggie anymore. The home had never felt safe with her in it and Richie was thankful he had a phase where he fixated on his dad’s medical books, which meant he always knew how to patch himself up. He rubs over the spot and breathes in, his inhale slow, an attempt at comforting himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re hiring you a tutor, Kate. She’s supposed to be great with teaching, too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands move, the sign language he’d picked up since his hearing had become less than the best becoming incredibly helpful now as he replaces his speech with quick movements. “Do they still have the koi pond?”  He falters on the word Koi, though, having to spell it out with a slightly frustrated frown. Richie had loved the koi pond and silently hopes it’s still there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wentworth nods, smiling as Richie seems to slowly relax. However, the boy tenses as they finally pull into the homes’ “driveway,” parking the car. Before Richie is even entirely out of the car, he’s being slammed into by two bundles, a woman fussing in the background at the two. Richie’s thankful that he manages to keep himself upright, letting out a soft huff through his nose, a hand coming up to protectively hover over his throat. It was subconscious after the past few days, after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Chee,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hears, so clearly Boris as the boy pulls away. He’s just an inch taller than Richie, certainly thinner and ganglier than the shorter. His wild curls are significantly longer than Richie’s own and he lacks the thick glasses and the soft shape that Richie’s face clearly sports. He’s decked out in the same dreary colors he always has on, a black sweater paired with ragged jeans. He has a few moles, too, differing from Richie’s thick array of light freckles that patter his skin. He smells like weed, though, a smell that Richie manages to place as distinctly </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boris.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Flora clings to his hip, hugging him to her best ability with her shorter stature. She’s smiling widely at seeing him, immediately grabbing him and pulling on his hand. “Come on! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to meet Miss Jesssel!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Richie smiles slightly as his sister pulls him along, the girl no different than how she used to be when she was just a toddler. She points at a woman who stands at the entrance to the home, smiling slightly at seeing Richie, though she’s still fussing at Boris and Flora, neither of which seem to be listening to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a moment, things are fine. Richie’s smiling and the horrid ache in his throat isn’t there. He doesn’t feel bad for leaving his friends. He doesn’t feel like the years he’s been away have changed anything at all. But, of course, the moment is fleeting and doesn’t stay there that long. It never does. Not for Richie, who lives life quick because he can’t focus on slow and his hands are always moving, no matter what, whether they be flailing or thumping something or playing with the threads on his old shirt </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pretends the air doesn’t leave his lungs when he sees the man, pretends he doesn’t suddenly feel terror at the sight of the shaggy hair and older man that’s haunted his dreams since he was just a child. His throat suddenly feels tight and all the air has left his lungs. The words of the others turn into static as he digs his nails into the gauze around his arms, hoping the pain will push away the static. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What pushes away the static is a hand clasping his shoulder, hands that he remembers so distinctly that he feels the air being restored in his lungs as he gasps, sharpening suddenly. All he can focus on is the man behind him, his voice, his hand, the way his fingers dig into the bone and thin skin, bruising it beneath the thick cloth of his shit He forces himself to breathe in fear of passing out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kid’s back! ‘In’even get a warning!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Boris scoffs, saying in a casual tone, “Fuck off, Quint. Your old ass doesn’t need a warning.” His thick accent is just as there as their father’s own, though Richie’s managed to suppress his and blame it as an incredibly accurate impression over the years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as sudden as he felt safe and comforted, it felt like this would be the furthest possible thing from home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, he bites his tongue and smiles as Boris drags him away so he can meet his boyfriend, Theo. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'd like to clarify the timeline here for you all. </p><p>Wentworth used to in the mafia since it makes the most sense for Boris' storyline but got out of it probably after Flora was born. However, he moved away from the Fairchild mansion while Flora and Miles were still pretty young and mostly kept Richie and Boris with him. However, after their grandparents' death, Boris, Miles, and Flora insisted on staying while Wentworth and Richie left. I'd like to imagine Richie had a great relationship with all the family there up until the deaths and put it n pause so he could grieve and get away from the hurt of it because he'd probably have significant trauma, as well as getting away from Quint. While it isn't mentioned and more implied, that's around the time that the r//pe shit with Quint started so Richie really did do his best to get away from it all. </p><p>Also, Jessel and Kate are going to be lesbians in this and they're both going to survive. </p><p>Stan knows Quint because he was there for the funeral, by the way. </p><p>The r//pe implications and mentions will only continue on in severity in this fic, just as it has with my other fic, Saint Bernard/Wait For It, which I am using as reference for bits of this. Please keep safe and do not continue on if it triggers you. </p><p>Also, fun fact that links in with both the Fairchild mansion and Boris/Richie/Wentworth's backgrounds. THe house in the Turning was more than likely a trade house used for smuggling in goods and later trading/selling them, which is why the creepy place probably has so many secret doors and places, as these were not uncommon back in the day and still exist currently.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Kids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heavy transphobia from Eddie's mom in this fic, as well as technically racial segregation (of sorts) and racism</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Eddie was pretty angry. Well, to be fair, Eddie usually always was some form of </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty angry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> given that it was his go-to emotion. However, he couldn’t contain the level of rage he was currently feeling for too long. His stomach churned unhappily, bubbling and boiling as he felt his face heat the tiniest bit with the rage that stewed just below his skin, coursing through his veins. Listening to his mother badmouth Richie for the third time within the last hour was beginning to not only get old, but also infuriate him to no end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been three weeks since Richie’s left Derry, three weeks since Wentworth Tozier got home with divorce papers in hand and shoved them at maggie Tozier with a look so sharp, Eddie thought he was going to murder her right then and there, and three weeks since Maggie Tozier had brought a storm of Hell upon the man, insisting she would never sign the divorce papers, even if he took her to court. Eddie hasn’t seen her in two weeks now, and after what little he’s seen of her interactions with Richie, he’s more than just a little willing to turn a blind eye towards the other’s “sudden disappearance.” If anyone were to ask, Eddie didn’t know anyone who would have any motives, Richie was off to stay with his siblings and Wentworth was out of town getting everything prepared for the divorce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now that you’ve gotten rid of that transvestite, Eddie,” his mother begins for the fourth time, “we can set you up with some pretty girl. You’ll have some beautiful children by the time you’re sixteen!” She smiles widely at him, her hands clasped together over her stomach. Her smile is more than just a little bittersweet and he has more than just a bit of an underlying suspicion that she thinks he may or may not have been leaning towards liking the rowdy boy, and good lords would she not even know the half of the raging crush he’s harbored over the other for literal years now. “You won’t have to hand out with queers anymore!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Truth be told, she’s been more than just a little bit unhinged since everything that had happened with </span>
  <em>
    <span>IT,</span>
  </em>
  <span> doing everything in her power to isolate him and ensure that he’s within a controlled environment at all times. The only person he’s technically allowed to hang out with is Stanley and that’s because the boy hadn’t been anywhere near Eddie when the boy appeared after the fight with Pennywise, out of town and fretting over Richie. Eddie had tried to hang out with Mike, telling his mother he wanted to go see him, but his mother had referred to Mike with an array of phrases and words that Eddie would never repeat, not even in his most heated of moments. He still cringes at the thought of that selection of wording alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of knocking someone up, though, sits more than just a small bit uncomfortably with him, if he’s being honest. She’d called Beverly a slut so many times before, despite the redhead being a virgin, and praising these other teenagers for being “perfect for Eddie” and wanting him to have children with them. Eddie can’t even imagine having a family, at least not with someone that isn’t from their group of losers alone. Platonically marrying Beverly, platonically having children with her, maybe. He wasn’t sure if he would be a good father, honestly, though, so the stretch of kids is unforeseen, so foreign to him. And he isn’t entirely sure he can imagine Richie knocked up, either, the boy practically being the spitting image of his father and certainly going to grow up the same. He can’t imagine Richie sporting a plump belly and complaining about his back hurting and feet being swollen while heavily pregnant with a child that may or may not be Eddie’s own. He isn’t entirely sure he’s at all ready to go down that rabbit hole, either, so he instead finds himself saying the same phrase he typically does to get away from things like this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mamma, I had plans with Stanley today,” he says, pulling the pouting face, “We wanted to start studying early for school so we can be ready to get good grades and go to a good college, just like you want me to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have to study </span>
  <em>
    <span>with him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> though,” she asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie finds himself nodding frantically, mostly because he can’t dare be bothered with being holed up in this house with his infuriating mother a moment longer. “He knows how to keep me focused,” he insists with quick words, nodding still. His attention span was rather short, though, especially since the boy stopped taking all of his medication in a moment of pure rage, that fit of anger never ending there, still sticking around about every single time he saw any form of pill or anything of that sort, all medical equipment making his anger rage on in his belly. He was rather sure that he should take the pill, but he honestly doesn’t know which one it is, and even if he did, the thought of taking it makes him nauseated. He’s only admitted this to his friends, all of which were understanding, to say the least. They’re all sympathetic, just like they are when Stanley explains just how much he’s always hated hospital and Beverly about how disgusted she gets when she sees pads or tampons, especially after Pennywise. The whole group has their own assortment of proclaimed triggers that manage not to get mentioned through the group that no one ever questions. If someone says stop, they do and then that’s it on the matter. No ifs, ands, ors, or buts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you can,” she says, her tone drawing on. “You get your cast off in a few weeks, though, so try not to break it or anything, got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie nods, forcing himself to move forward and press a kiss to his mother’s cheek, telling her, “Thank you, Mamma,” on his way out. It makes his stomach drop every single time he does so. At least he didn’t have to sneak out this time, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s quick to get his bike and ride off, making his way to their little clubhouse without hesitation. He knows the route by heart and doesn’t even have to be able to see it to know where he’s going. It’s muscle memory and a fond memory, at that. The wind flows through the trail as he rides as quickly as he can, dropping his bike off and scrambling down the ladder without a second thought. There’s always someone there. It used to almost always be Richie, soometimes even Mike, or typically Beverly, but with how things have changed, it’s become rather frequent for it to be Eddie or Stanley. Eddie, who hates his mother with a burning passion, and Stanley, who can’t stand looking next door because he knows what’s happening behind closed doors now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stan is there, sitting in the hammock with Beverly in a chair beside him, the two talking. Their attention turns towards Eddie, still softly smiling. Beverly says, “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d she do this time? It’s only eight in the morning, neither of you have been up that long.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She keeps shit-talking Richie,” he says, his arms flailing as he begins angrily pacing, stomping around, “and he wants me to meet this girl and get her pregnant. By </span>
  <em>
    <span>sixteen,</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the way!” he points at his hand, slapping them angrily to iterate the last point. “I don’t get it! She always says you’re a slut even though you aren’t and she wants me to get someone pregnant! I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get someone pregnant! The only people that I can possibly imagine living with as an adult is one of the losers and I can’t imagine getting you knocked up, Bev!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The redhead lets out a soft laugh at the prospect of being pregnant. “You aren’t getting me pregnant before I turn sixteen,” she says immediately. “And Richie’s already told me he doesn’t want kids until after he’s made a name for himself so he can be able to fund everything they want to do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eddie remembers that conversation. It was a bit after the quarry, after they all decided to swim in it a few times together. Despite all the bitching Richie had done about Beverly joining their little group, he was comfortable with her and didn’t mind discussing things with her, even within the short times they were friends during that point. He found her trustworthy, as the rest of the group did. It didn’t take but a few looks from Richie for the boy to know if someone could be credible or not, something that the group had learned quickly. His intuition was the best out of all of them, to be honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And now, they don’t have the other to their group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get you pregnant,” he deadpans as his cheeks turn red. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you do Richie,” Stan teases, though there’s a smile to his lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like you don’t, either!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t thought about kids just yet,” the other immediately retorts, but both of them know it’s a lie. Within the three weeks Richie’s been gone, they’ve had more than just a few conversations in this clubhouse and kids had managed to be one of them. While Eddie couldn’t imagine having kids with Richie, adopted or biological, Stan and Mike both could. Stan had considered a biological child while Mike considered adopting two and the three had dwelled into their crushes on Richie after that, as well as future plans along the way. It was nice not to be discussing a sobering topic, for once. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three now, though, dissolve into laughter between them, relaxed and calming down slowly. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter is NOT going to be pg fresh and it's going to be rough on Richie and possible have rape/non-con in it, so PLEASE be careful!! </p><p>and, btw, Richie is the youngest of the losers in this fic because I love Richie being the youngest, tbh. My one friend introduced me to this hc and I have not dropped it since.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please leave comments and reviews! Or little suggestions towards the future chapters!</p><p>Here's my Discord server!<br/>https://discord.gg/eGkwayy</p></blockquote></div></div>
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